


Dreaming

by curioscurio



Category: Coraline (2009), Coraline - All Media Types, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Aizawa is the Beldam, Alternate Universe - Mineta Minoru Doesn't Exist, Bakusquad (My Hero Academia), Body Horror, Deaf Bakugou Katsuki, Deaf Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Denki starts off taking Coraline's role, ED mentioned but not explicit rn, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, F/F, I think it's a slow burn but stay with me here folks we'll get to the action soon, M/M, Might add more pairings as I go along?, Parental Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Shinsou Hitoshi Replaces Mineta Minoru, because of the needles plus some other stuff I have planned, im gonna try and include the whole class if I can!, seriously tho body horror, this starts out as bakusquad focus but I rlly wanna get to everyone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-02 21:51:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16313312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curioscurio/pseuds/curioscurio
Summary: Hush and Shush, for the Beldam might be listening.Little dolls start appearing out of nowhere, and they look identical to some of the students of class 1-A."He's got this whole world where everything's better! The classes, the equipment, the teachers. But it's all a trap."Denki's gripping Kirishima's shoulders hard, and staring at him right in the eyes. Kirishima blinks."Aizawa has a what now?""Not OUR Aizawa, the OTHER Aizawa!"





	Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! This is my first fanfic published here so please destroy it  
> Also theres body horror here in the first chapter but it's like doll/toy body horror? No blood or anything but it's still there so be cautious if thats not for you!

He starts humming.

 

Gently, almost expectantly do thin needle hands catch the little girl from her descent. He uses one hand to unlatch a thin red box, which opens two panels from the center to reveal the tools of his trade, and another to lay the little girl upon the tool box’s worn leather working area. A crown of rusty blades, hooks, thread cutters, and leatherworking supplies frame the little girl’s body, and he gets to work. The plush doll is wearing a beautiful pink dress, especially in fashion for what her age would have been, but that wouldn’t do. No, his new doll would have to be much more vivacious. The noise of long and weighted fabric scissors cut through the dolls dress in two careful snips. He holds her up to get better access to her twin yarn spun braids, grabs one end with silver fingertips, and _pulls._ Slowly, almost achingly so, the little girls hair unravels from her soft scalp row by row until her entire head is laid bare. He wastes no time by retrieving a tool for this part, and instead uses his bare hands.

 

 The black button eyes should be removed as quickly as possible, as they are old and brittle. These eyes have been sucked dry. He uses two fingers to swiftly slice through the thread holding the buttons to the little doll’s head, and two others to lift them from her face. The blade of a thread cutter makes quick work of the stitches holding her mouth shut, and the tearing of fabric is accompanied by flossy white cotton spilling over the dolls gaping lips. He hangs her upside down from his hands like a slaughtered goose, reaches up to the cotton leaking from her mouth and slides the fluff from her body with little resistance. He lets the little girls’ insides fall off the side of the work area, as he is much more absorbed in completing his project than disposing of the cotton properly.

 

Holding up the deflated carcass, he lets himself no moment to savor the results of his work before shoving a hand through the shell’s mouth, grabbing a hold of its flesh, and turning it inside out.  It hangs alone in the still room.

_Now,_ He thinks to himself. _Now we can get started._

 

            Sand is poured into the empty sleeve, and the body fills out its shape until the sand reaches the rim of its mouth. No less gently does he return the doll to its aged leather bed; all the tools that had been used having been put back in their respective slots surrounding the doll. He threads a new needle, and lets it slide down the thread softly. The doll’s gaping lips are sewn back together.

 

 _Much better,_ he thinks.

 

            He opens up a long tray from under his work area to reveal neatly organized rows of dusty button pairs. Fingers danced from side to side, hovering over a few pairs before deciding on one of his newer buttons. Meticulously, he lines the button up on his new creations face and slowly draws the needle through one of the buttons holes. One by one he inserts sunflower yellow strings of yarn into the doll’s scalp, and when he’s finished with that he cuts out an angled black felt lightning bolt and attaches it to the doll’s bangs.  He laid out a large sheet of black fabric with a clothing pattern traced onto it and turns to an ancient and weighty sewing wheel. A small tug sets the cobweb covered wheel in motion, gliding silently through the machine, and as a result the needle pointed tip bobs up and down through the black fabric. The only thing left was to dress the little doll now, and he carefully slides the newly sewn jacket, shirt, boots, and pants over the dolls body. The finishing touch is a tiny grey button with a sewing pin attached to the circumference that is sewn on the where the dolls ear would be. Tacky, but does the trick of looking like a mini ear phone and antennae.

 

Just as gently as he had caught the little girl from her freefall does he cradle the newly formed doll in his hands. A gentle push is all that is needed to release the little boy back into the void of stars and dreams that he’d been borne of. He watches the little boy float away and smiles.

 

He sits. And he waits.

 

* * *

 

 

He sits. And he waits. And he waits. And he waits some more. It must have been hours that he’s been waiting, where the hell was Kirishima with their fucking coffee?! Denki Kaminari leaned back and let out a loud and drawn out sigh, nearly falling off the arm of the common room sofa. Hanta Sero, who’d been the unfortunate victim of Kaminari’s impromptu “I Need To Flop My Entire Body Onto Any Vaguely Horizontal Surface Right Now And You Look Comfortable” attack, yelps.

 

“Hey, watch where you’re directing your misguided anger, dude!” Sero huffed from his position trapped under Kaminari’s legs. Kaminari let his eyes close in frustration.

 

“Can’t help it, man. My body is rejecting control of my brain from lack of caffeine. It’s withering away right now as we speak. Where the hell is Kiri and Baku?” He lets out another groan for dramatic effect.

 

“It’s only been ten minutes.” Sero deadpanned with an unimpressed look at Kaminari, who snapped his head back up from where it was hanging over the edge of the sofa to shoot Sero a desperate look.

 

“I coulda sworn it’s been at least two hours!” Sero remained unmoved. He tried again.

 

“An hour?”

 

Nothing.

 

“Thirty minutes?”

 

“Denki, it’s been ten—now eleven minutes since Kirishima and Bakugo went to grab drinks from the vending machine.”

A clink of glass hitting glass interrupted the comeback Kaminari absolutely had ready to slam back at his friend, and he twisted his body to catch a pink hand lay down a bowl of strawberries on the glass coffee table in front of them.

 

“I’ve come to rescue your decaying body with orbs of delicious nutrition!” Ashido Mina announces with a little cheer and peace sign. Flailing arms and legs jut out as both boys try and untangle themselves from each other in a desperate attempt to be the first to the strawberries. (“Ow, Sero get your chunky elbows outta my face!” “Get your face outta MY chunky elbows!”)

 

Mina chuckles. “Admit it. You dumb fucks would get scurvy without me here to feed you proper nutrition.” Kaminari was stuffing his face with the tangy red fruit.

 

“You’ve saved my life and dignity, Ashido! These are great!” He says through filled cheeks. Sero grabs a handful and leans back into the sofa, grinning.

 

“Maybe Denki and Kirishima would get scurvy, but Bakugo and I don’t eat cosmic brownies and Mountain Dew all day. Speaking of, when’s the last time you ate a vegetable, Ashido?” The plain faced boy teased. Mina let out a huff of indignation and flopped onto the sofa across from theirs.

 

“Oh, shut up. Fruits are sweet and delicious and treat me right. Vegetables are disgusting, bitter and come from the devil. They want to destroy me, but I’ll never let them.” She said and reflected on her words for a moment. “Except pickles, but they’re on thin fucking ice.”

 

“Pickles aren’t a vegetable, you fucking piece of bubblegum.” Came a grumbling voice from the door. Standing in the doorframe were Bakugo Katsuki and Eijiro Kirishima, the redhead’s arms full of various canned coffees, teas, and waters from the vending machine. Bakugo’s arms remained empty and shoved in his pockets. Kirishima greeted them all with a warm smile.

 

“We’re back! Mina, the vending machine didn’t have that fruity soda you wanted so we got you a milk tea— “Kirishima was interrupted by the electrifying blond rooting around in his arms.

 

“Thanks guys, I was dying over here without any caffeine!” Kaminari found his prize and nearly burst into tears. “Sweet elixir…”

 

Kirishima laid out the drinks on the table next to the strawberries, grabbed himself one of the fruits and sat down next to Mina, while Bakugo sauntered into the kitchen area to grab an apple. 

 

“Why didn’t you just do Aizawa’s homework yesterday instead of staying up all night to do it? We had the whole weekend.” Kirishima questioned innocently. Sero snickered and grabbed his mineral water from the table, while Ashido settled for the milk tea. Denki turned towards Kirishima with a look that said _Oh, you poor fool. You don’t know, do you?_

 

“Oh, you poor fool. You don’t know, do you?” Denki said aloud a moment after he thought it.

 

“Know what?”

 

“Aizawa has it out for me.” Groans erupted all around the couches, and one extra angry one from the kitchen fridge.

 

“Aizawa doesn’t fucking have it out for you, dumbass! You don’t fucking pay attention and ask to copy my shit all the damn time! It’s fucking annoying!” Bakugo spat through a mouthful of apple, chewing furiously. It was like he was trying to take his anger with Denki out on the poor apple.

 

“It’s true! He always calls on me when he knows I’m busy working on Mic’s homework and not in the right mind space for hero work.” Denki defends, crossing his arms.

 

“Why were you doing Mic’s homework in class instead of the day it was assigned?” Mina snickers out.

 

“Not important, and like you’re one to talk, Ashido! The point is that Aizawa totally tries to get me to mess up in class and look dumb!”

 

“You don’t need _his_ help to look dumb.” Bakugo growls. Denki turns to him, agitated.

 

“Oh yea? And what’s your secret to balancing grades, sleep, food, hero work, and social life, huh Bakugo?” The blonde in question gives Denki a shit eating grin.

 

“Git gud.”

 

Kaminari groans and shoved his face in his hands while everyone else erupts into laughter. Kirishima wipes a tear from his eye and takes a long gulp of his energy drink to push back the laughter. Sero and Mina are outright losing it on the couch. Denki groans. Kirishima lights up as if Denki’s groan has personally offered to pay for him to have a nice meal at a fancy restraint.

 

“Oh! I almost forgot, we found this on the sidewalk on our way back!” He shuffles around in his bag for a moment and pulls out a little stuffed doll with button eyes and a black jacket.

 

It looks exactly like Denki.

 

“Oh. My. God. IT’S A LITTLE DENKI!” Ashido squeals and snatches it away from Kirishima’s hands to play around with it.  She curiously lifts one flap of the open jacket to test how far it would go and gasps. “You can even take the clothes off!” She hollers with glee.

 

“What!?” Kaminari exclaims, looking mortified.

 

“Whooo! Take it off Denki!” Sero jeers at the tiny Kaminari doll, and Mina starts to move the dolls arms and legs, trying to make it strip.

 

“NO! Don’t do this to tiny me! Ashido!” Denki yelps and reaches over to try and snatch his doppelgänger away. Bakugo reaches over to keep Kaminari back with one arm and Ashido is holding the doll just out of his reach.

 

“It’s not me, Den, he’s doing it by himself! It’s not me!” She forces the words out through fits of giggling. Sero and Kirishima are laughing hysterically, the dark-haired kid holding his sides and he tried to breathe, and the redhead wiping more tears from his eyes. Even Bakugo was snickering enough to loosen his hold on Kaminari’s waist, who used the moment of weakness to jerk himself free and snatch the doll from Mina’s sinful hands. He held the doll close, as if to protect the thing from his friend’s vicious mockery.

 

“Don’t worry, little me. You are safe now my sweet child.” He says, cradling himself like a baby. He shoots Kirishima an impressed look.

 

“This is really fucking cool, man. How long did it take you to make this, it really does look just like me.” Kirishima lets his laughter die down and turns to Denki, eyebrow quirked.

 

“What?”

 

“How long did it take for you to make this doll of me?” Denki repeated.

 

“I didn’t make it, dude. Sewing is a pretty manly pastime, but I never learned how to do it.”  Denki guffaws.

 

“The who did? Was it Tokoyami? He seems like he’d know how to do that kind of shit.” Denki presses, turning the doll over in is hand. The black button eyes stare back at him unassumingly. Bakugo scoffed.

 

“He fucking told you, we found it on the ground outside. Were you even listening?” He said. Denki frowned for a moment, confused, before Sero snuck around behind him and grabbed the doll from his hand and launched himself across the room, hastily trying the pull off the doll’s tiny pants. Kaminari yelped and ran after him.

 

“DON’T DO THIS TO HIM, SERO, I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS!” Denki frantically chases Sero around the common room.

 

“Show us your lizard dick! We know the truth! Why are you keeping the truth from the public!?” Sero announces, doll in hand, tugging at its pants. Denki feigns tears.

 

“I’m sensitive, please don’t show my lizard dick to Mina!” He pleads.

 

The pants were, unfortunately, sewed onto the doll’s waist and unable to be removed.

 

* * *

 

That night Denki Kaminari laid in his bed, head full of conflicting and frustrating thoughts. Even though he managed to complete Aizawa’s work in time, it was still shit. Both of them knew it, and Denki was positive he’d get hell for it tomorrow. It wasn’t like he didn’t try; essay’s and busywork were just infuriatingly hard for Denki to work on. He turned over on his side and away from his problems when his eye caught the bright yellow hair of his fabric counterpart.

 

The doll was looking right at him.

 

 _“Fuck!”_ He swore and felt a few small arcs of electricity crawl up his arms as he jerked back. He clutched the bedcovers tightly before realizing there was no immediate danger to himself and let out a sigh of relief.

 

“Fuck, It’s just you, little me. Scared me there, heh heh…” He trailed off awkwardly before groaning and slamming his face into his pillow.  “Great. First, I get spooked by a toy and now I’m talking to it. Some hero I am.” He mumbled into the pillow. He dragged his face up and stared at himself.

 

“Pathetic, isn’t it? Can’t complete my schoolwork, can’t manage my time, gets scared by little dolls. The teachers don’t even like me and my friends are all better than me at literally everything. What even CAN I do?” He knew rationally half of those things weren’t true and that his anxiety was causing his insecurities to flood out of control, but damn it, venting about them to someone who wouldn’t answer back felt good. He suddenly felt a rush of anger swell through his whole body. It was like a building pressure just begging to explode out of him.

 

“I may not be perfect, but neither are they! Everyone’s always judging me and calling me stupid, but how is anyone else better? Mina thinks she’s the hottest shit, like she can do whatever she wants and that the world revolves around her! And she’s always shoving her nose into other people’s business when it’s clearly not wanted.”

 

“Sero acts like he’s all high and mighty for eating healthy, but if I wanna chug a few Monsters it’s all _“You’re going to destroy your body like that, Denki.”_ Well newsflash, asshole! Just because you can’t stand the way your body looks doesn’t mean you get to judge others eating habits.” Kaminari could feel a few hot tears slip out the side of his eyes and struggled to keep his shaking voice down so that only the doll could hear. Something was wrong. He clutched his comforter a little tighter.

 

“Don’t even get me started on Bakugo! The guy’s a fucking time bomb every day, treats everyone around him like ass, and still is the smartest guy in our grade probably. Half the class hates him, and for good reason! He doesn’t care about anybody but himself, and only hangs around us all for a fucking laugh and to feel better about himself since he’s _sooooo_ superior to us extra characters.”

 

“Kirishima is so obsessed with being manly and sucking up to Bakugo that he lets other people take advantage of how nice he is. He’s like a lost puppy and defends Bakugo to the point of where he can’t even see all the damage Bakugo does half the time. The guy doesn’t even take onto consideration that not everyone is as loyal to that son of a bitch as he is.” Every hushed insult that slips out feels like a poison smog in the air.

 

“And somehow, I’m still more useless than all of them…” Denki finished his rant with heaving, shuddering breaths; one hand tangled in his blanket and one in his hair. Acid hot tears covered his face, and he let them sit there for a moment before wiping them off on his sheets. He lays back down, unaware that he had even sat up at any point. He was hyper aware of the deafening silence that was left behind after his whispered anxiety attack and hoped that neither of his neighbors had heard the swift breakdown.

 

The moment the last word left his lips, and the last cloud of verbal sludge leaves his throat, Denki feels a thousand times lighter. For a moment.

 

It all rushes back in and hits him like a typhoon.

 

Nausea wells in the back of his mouth. How could he have said that— how could he have even thought of those terrible things. These were his closest friends, his _squad_! He’d never felt that Mina had overstepped her boundaries with anyone when she wanted to know more about a situation. She was always so kind and patient and respectful, and Denki himself knew that wanting (or needing) attention wasn’t always a bad thing.

 

How could he have felt so angry at Kirishima’s kind soul? His friend may be stuck to Bakugo’s side like glue, but he sure as hell wasn’t a pushover when it came to the blonde’s pushy demeanor and cruel words. Eijiro knew when not to put up with his shit and when to support the people Bakugo had wronged.

 

And God, what the _hell_ caused him to bring up Sero’s eating disorder? Though he was recovering, Hanta trusted them all enough to let them know on the days he was struggling and also trusted them not to use his ED to _justify Denki’s own shitty self-esteem, fuck_.

 

And Bakugo- well, a lot of those things were true. He was an asshole most of the time. But Denki knew in his soul that if Bakugo really did hate them or despised hanging out with them then he wouldn’t be there with them. He wouldn’t have taken Kirishima’s hand during his rescue from the villains, he wouldn’t laugh at Sero’s jokes, he wouldn’t listen to Mina’s latest gossip, and he wouldn’t be so concerned about Denki’s struggling grades.

 

Denki Kaminari felt _vile._

 

The little doll stared at him.

 

He looked to the digital clock sitting on the desk that read 3:29 AM and sighed. As disgusting and rotten as he felt for talking about his friends like that, he found himself equally as exhausted from the impromptu anxiety attack. He would make it up to them tomorrow somehow (though none of them were actually present for their verbal annihilation). Right now, he’d be even more useless without at least four hours of sleep, and he found it almost too easy to let his exhaustion lull him to sleep.

 

 _Huh,_ he thought blearily, only a breath away from slipping into a dream.

 

Denki could have sworn he’d left the little doll that looked exactly like himself on the bookshelf earlier, instead of his desk.

 

He fell asleep.

 

And he waits.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what y'all think and if I should keep going with this! No beta reader we die like illiterate fucks (unless someone wants to beta read then hmu) 
> 
> Also I'm not super familiar with everyone's character so I'm sorry if some characters act OOC, but please don't hesitate to let me know so I can fix them later! Thank you for reading!


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